Broken
by CJ.Ruru
Summary: Historical!Fic, Civil War Era - America is in the process of tearing himself apart, and is desperate. He goes to England for help, but that might have been a bigger mistake than he originally thought. Rated T for foul language.


America stood outside of England's house for what felt like decades. His country was in the process of tearing itself apart, and he was completely lost. The young nation felt his eyes pooling when thinking about why he came to England's house in the first place. He was weak, and he needed help. America did not know where else to turn because the only other country he knew was France, but he was in debt still from his Independence. Therefore, he was left with England.

Curling his fingers into a fist, America forced himself to knock on the large doors in front of him. He was wet from the rain that was showering down on him, and his expression blended in well with the depressing grey skies. It was a few minutes before the door opened, and America's face shot up immediately, making direct eye contact with England. An awkward silence was spared when America blurted out,

"England?"

"Yes?" England asked bluntly. "Why are you here?"

America was silent, unsure of what he should do or say. Knowing England did not like to sit around and waste time, America was quick to ask,

"Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you." America said, trying his best to sit up straighter as well as look serious. It was obvious to everyone that England still did not take America seriously as a nation, but that didn't mean the young country would stop trying.

England frowned at America, his eyes seemingly filled with disappointment; not that America was ever expecting England to be proud of him anytime soon. After a moment of thinking, England stepped back. He didn't say anything, but he allowed America to enter the house. America had to admit that he was surprised that England allowed him inside. The Empire still seemed rather bitter towards him, but that was probably expected. After all, America broke England's heart less than a century ago, and bombed his capital merely 50 years ago. Their relationship was nowhere close to healing anytime soon.

Once inside the house, England led America into the living room, and told him to take a seat.

"I just made a fresh pot of tea. Would you like a cup?" England offered; his voice sounding monotone. America nodded, but stayed quiet, sitting down on the love seat after England turned his back. The Brit arrived back in a short amount of time, holding two cups of tea and placing them both on the coffee table. He then took a seat in the arm chair, crossing his arms and looking directly at America.

"Thanks," America said, grabbing the tea and blowing on it before taking a sip. England nodded.

"Now what did you come here to talk about?" England asked, getting straight to the point. "I'm assuming your government made you come here to have whatever discussion it is you want to have."

America wasn't too sure how to respond. That was partly true, but he personally wanted England's help as well. America was looking to fix his relationship with England, and if he could get the Brit on bored, that could be the first step in fixing their broken relationship.

"Kind of…," America started to say. "Although my government wanted me to talk to you, I wanted to as well. So it's not all my government." England scoffed, but didn't speak. "Anyways," America continued. "I'm sure you know about… the trouble that has been going on in my country lately…"

"You're having a Civil War, I know." England interrupted. America bit his lip and nodded.

"Yes… and well… I was wondering if you could… sort of help me out…" America's voice was soft, it sounded like it could break at any moment. The newer country avoided eye contact with England. It honestly took a lot for America to ask for help. He had been trying too hard to get the other nations to see him as an equal nation, but that was harder than he expected, and asking for help was even harder. Using the last bit of strength and bravery, America looked at England.

England did not look nice, nor did he even look angry or annoyed. The only way America could describe how England looked was… amused.

"Why the hell are you smiling?" America snipped. England's smile grew and he began to chuckle a bit as well.

"I was trying to refrain from laughing, but that is obviously not working out too well." England said sarcastically. America was dead silent. He had no idea how to take in what England was saying. Was he seriously taking this as a joke?

"Come _on_ England!" America cried. "My people are _d-destroying_ each other, and I don't know what to do! It hurts, I am physically hurting, England…" America's voice got soft again and he broke his eye contact with England. There was silence before England began to speak.

"Oh, I know you're hurting, America. It was only a matter of time." America felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he glanced back up at England. "It was only a matter of time before your country failed before _you_ failed." England sneered.

America felt like he was just punched in the gut. He wanted to throw up, but worse of all… America felt like he was breaking.

"I'm not failing…" America mumbled. "Not… not yet anyway…"

England raised a bushy brow at his former colony. Whether or not England thought America was weak, there was no questioning that America looked pitifully weak in this moment.

"Not yet," England repeated. "But you will. I told you from the very beginning that you are not capable of being an independent nation, but what did you do? You revolted, and you left." England stood up and grabbed America by the collar of his shirt, and jerked the young nation to his feet. America's eyes were filled with fear that could not be escaped.

"I followed my people…" America hissed between his teeth. England laughed bitterly, letting go of America's shirt and turning his back on the American. The Empire placed both hands on his hips as he snapped,

"Haha, you bloody fucking Yankee… you followed the same twats who are now in the process of killing each other," England turned and faced America once more, a bitter smile on his face. "You're falling apart, just like I said you would!" England yelled. "And now I get to sit back and watch you crumble like the pathetic _colony you are_. I can't even believe you had the gall to ask me, the bloody British _Empire_ for help with your pathetic problems. You are a sorry excuse for a country, America, and I am completely ashamed to say I had anything to do with your upbringing."

"Oh screw you, England!" America screamed. By now, there was a river of tears flowing from America's eyes and down his cheeks. Both his hands were balled into tight fists, causing his knuckles to turn white. America wanted to fight back, but he was struck with sharp pain in his heart. America gasped, clenching his chest while squeezing his eyes shut. "I hate you, England. I. Hate. You."

"You mean absolutely nothing to me, America. Not anymore." England said.

America opened his eyes slowly beginning to glare at England. There was nothing left to do. The young nation, turned his back to England, but before he walked away, America smacked the two tea cups off the table, causing tea to stain the carpet, and both cups to smash into pieces. With his final statement made, America was able to leave.

 **AN: Ouch. Here is a new fic that I wrote based on the American Civil War. As it turns out, the US actually asked the British for help. However, the British basically said "lol fuck you" and wanted to watch the country suffer. I'm debating on writing a second part to this. It would essentially be the same thing except from England's perspective rather than America's. I'm not sure if I want to though. If enough people are interested then maybe? Well, I hope you all enjoy this and let me know what you think!**


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